


and i'm the damn fool that shot him

by johnllauren



Series: my first friend, my enemy [1]
Category: 18th & 19th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Grief, M/M, Mourning, This is pure angst, yay gay founding father angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5836582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnllauren/pseuds/johnllauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>I killed him.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>	The words are a constant, never-ending mantra in the back of his mind, no matter what he’s doing.</p><p>	<em>I killed him. I killed him.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	and i'm the damn fool that shot him

_I killed him._

The words are a constant, never-ending mantra in the back of his mind, no matter what he’s doing.

_I killed him. I killed him._

He works to make himself forget, though there’s really no forgetting. The phrase comes to him as easily as breathing now, so it’s no use. No matter what he’s working on, it doesn’t stop. A bill to pass women’s suffrage that he’d never allow to see the light of day. A letter to a friend. Something in his journal to signify the passing of another day. The thoughts are still there, with every inhale and every exhale. 

Breathe in. _I killed him._ Breathe out. _I killed him._

Still, he lets himself be like this. Lets himself stay numb, because it’s better than the alternative. Breathing in and out that he killed Hamilton is better – safer – than grieving. Better than feeling the constant pain in his chest, better than thinking back to when things were simple – simpler – when he and Hamilton could kiss without politics being an issue. 

_I killed him._

He draws in a sharp breath - _I killed him_ \- and lets it go - _I killed him_. 

He goes back to work.

_I killed him._

At some point, his daughter Theodosia enters his office with dinner – or is it breakfast, he can’t tell. She gives him a sad look, and he knows she knows about him and Hamilton. Theo’s smart – no, beyond that – and intuitive, there’s no doubt she’s figured it out. Besides, she had been the only one to greet him when he comes home from “work” breathless and red in the face, saying work was “stressful.” She knows Hamilton works - _worked_ \- near him. She knows about them. Theo gives him a glass of water and an apologetic look and exits his office.

_I killed him_. 

His relationship with Hamilton has always been… complicated. Hamilton has always been a nuisance, a thorn in his side (a _burr_ in his side, as Hamilton used to say). They had both been in support of the revolution, though Hamilton had been more vocal about it than he. 

The night they met… it was a combination of too many beers, reckless youth, and love – if one could call it that. It escalated from there (doesn’t it always?) and, years down the line of whatever relationship they had, here he sits. Alone. Without Hamilton. 

_I killed him._

Aaron Burr sighs.


End file.
